


All For You

by kjack89



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Cuddling, Fluff, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-23
Updated: 2013-12-23
Packaged: 2018-01-05 19:56:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1097993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kjack89/pseuds/kjack89
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bossuet and Musichetta keep sending Joly out on errands, making him wonder what he's missing at home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All For You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [revolutionaryfury](https://archiveofourown.org/users/revolutionaryfury/gifts).



> The prompt was for Manhattan, Joly/Musichetta/Bossuet, and no jealousy, just happiness.
> 
> I've tried to fit everything in!
> 
> Usual disclaimer - I own nothing, including the loads of cliches herein contained.

Joly carefully managed to extricate himself from the jumble of limbs and blankets that made up their bed, holding his breath for fear of waking either Bossuet or Musichetta. Thankfully, Bossuet continued snoring without break, and though Musichetta reached out for Joly, who was no longer there, she rolled onto her back instead and continued sleeping. He smiled fondly as he looked down at them, the two most important people in his life, both of whom he loved more than anything else in the world.

Still, as much as he loved them, he needed coffee and so left them to their sleep, padding through their silent apartment. His smile faltered as he glanced around and he sighed heavily. Despite it being December 23rd, there were no decorations put up in their apartment, mostly because Musichetta and Bossuet didn’t celebrate and also didn’t really care about Christmas decorations.

Though Joly would consider himself agnostic at best, a part of him still missed the cheerful red and green decorations, the bright lights, a decorated tree propped up in the corner (fake, of course, as Joly’s allergies wouldn’t allow for a real tree). But they had all made sacrifices when deciding to move their relationship to the next level: Bossuet would never get the dog that he always wanted, again because of Joly’s allergies; and Musichetta had resigned herself to not getting married, since she wouldn’t marry one of her boys if she couldn’t marry both of her boys.

Sighing, Joly made his way into the kitchen, putting the coffee pot on and waiting for it to brew. By the time Joly had finished his first cup of coffee, Bossuet had stumbled out of the bedroom, kissed Joly on the cheek, and poured himself a cup of coffee as well. “Are you waking ‘Chetta or am I?” Bossuet asked sleepily.

“I believe the rule is that he who makes the coffee does not suffer the wrath of the lady of the house this early in the morning, “Joly told him blithely, laughing at the pout on Bossuet’s face.

But Bossuet just sighed and drained his coffee, kissing Joly once more before stumbling back down the hallway to wake Musichetta. Ten minutes later, they were all together in the kitchen, Musichetta sitting in Joly’s lap, her feet resting on Bossuet’s lap. “Hey, Jolllly,” she said in her most wheedling tone, “want to do me a favor?”

Joly rested his chin on Musichetta’s shoulder. “That depends,” he said slowly. “What is it that you want me to do?”

“You know that bakery down on 42nd street? The one that sells those bagels that I really, really like? What would you say about going down there and getting me some?”

She asked the question almost innocently, turning to blink at him with wide, pleading eyes, and Joly knew that he was sunk. He had never been able to refuse Musichetta much of anything, especially when she looked at him like that. “Fine,” he sighed, kissing her temple. “But you are going to have to move if I’m going to go.”

Laughing, she scooted off of Joly’s lap, settling on Bossuet’s instead. “Fine, but you better hurry. I’m hungry.”

Joly was sure to bundle up appropriately before going outside with several layers, his scarf, a hat, and mittens, and then he headed to the subway to start the long trip down to midtown, all to get Musichetta the bagels that she so craved.

All in all, it took over an hour to get to the bakery, get the bagels (Joly ordered an even dozen, figuring they’d have some left over for over Christmas, when none of them were going to be inclined to get out of bed in search of sustenance), and get back to the apartment. However, he had no sooner set foot into the foyer and Bossuet had met him there, grinning broadly at him, divesting him of the bagels, and sending him back out the door, telling him that they were missing a few ingredients for gingerbread, and that since he was already all bundled up, it made the most sense if Joly just went out for them. As he practically pushed Joly out into the hallway, he called after him, “I’ll text you the grocery list. Love you!”

So Joly went to the grocery store and came back laden with enough sugar, flour and other baking necessities to make an entire gingerbread army. This time, Musichetta took the grocery bags out of his hands, kissed both his cheeks, and asked him sweetly if he wouldn’t mind going down to the Bloomingdale’s on 3rd avenue to pick up the gift for her mom. “It should be right at the service counter,” she told him, “wrapped and everything.”

It took almost an hour of being sent from manager to manager at Bloomingdale’s on one of the busiest shopping days of the year before Musichetta called and told him sweetly, “Oh, darling, I’m so sorry, but it’s at Saks. I completely forgot!”

Joly forced a smile onto his face as he told her in what he hoped was a patient tone, “Not a problem. That’s not too far anyway. I’ll be back before you know it.”

“Great,” Musichetta told him, completely relieved. “By the way, while you’re out, can you swing by Toys’R’Us in Times Square? I promised my sister I’d pick up something New York for my niece and nephew. Whatever you think would be appropriate. Love you lots!”

Even though Joly loved New York City in the winter, especially at Christmas, with the hustle and the bustle and even the normally dour New Yorkers in festive moods, but today, with the wind whipping fiercely through the crowded buildings, when all he wanted was to be back at their apartment, cuddled up on the couch with Bossuet and Musichetta, every little thing was irritating him, and the last thing he wanted to do was wade through a bunch of screaming kids and their haggard parents while Musichetta and Bossuet were back in their apartment doing...whatever it was they were doing.

Maybe that was what was really bothering him, he contemplated as he waited in a line that was about a mile and a half long. Bossuet and Musichetta were back home, in the warmth, probably cuddled up together, probably watching a movie or TV, Musichetta’s head resting on Bossuet’s shoulder, Bossuet stroking her hair. Maybe they’d be kissing or maybe they wouldn’t, but it didn’t matter, they were there together -- without him.

He wasn’t jealous of one of them, didn’t begrudge them their time alone together, because he was jealous of them both. He wanted to spend time with both the loves of his life, and being out here alone, happy as he was to help Musichetta with her errands, was enough to put him in a thoroughly sour mood.

Enough so that when he finally got back, when he finally opened the door to the apartment, he set the gifts down on the ground and stepped back into the hallway, assuming that he was just going to get sent on another errand. “Where do you need me to go now?” he called, trying not to sound as tired and thoroughly miserable as he felt.

To his surprise, Bossuet came to meet him, kissing him lightly on the lips. “We just need you to come into the living room,” he told him, reaching down to link his fingers with Joly, tugging him into the living room where Musichetta was waiting, beaming widely at both of them.

Joly stopped in his tracks and stared around in wonder at the living room, which had been completely transformed. Every available space was decorated with Christmas and Holiday decorations, a Christmas tree standing in the corner, decorated with twinkling lights and funny ornaments, and snowmen, candles, a Menorah (rather inexplicably; not only were none of them Jewish, but Hanukkah was long since over), holly, tinsel, and a million other things littered every other surface. Bossuet pulled him forward to Musichetta and then pointed at the ceiling, telling Joly excitedly, “Look, mistletoe!”, before kissing him.

Musichetta allowed them to kiss for a moment before tugging Joly away from him and kissing him herself. Then Musichetta and Bossuet kissed, before sharing a knowing, self-congratulatory smile. “So do you like it?” Musichetta asked Joly, running her fingers through his hair.

“Like it?” Joly repeated, still a little dazed and he continued looking around. “I love it! Do you do this all just for me?”

Bossuet laughed, wrapping an arm around Musichetta’s waist. “Well, it wasn’t all for you,” he teased, leaning in to kiss Joly again. “We’re selfish enough to want to celebrate ourselves as well. But yeah, you can pretty much consider this an early Christmas gift. Because we love you. Besides,” Bossuet added, winking at Joly, “you should be doubly impressed by the fact that we set all this up, and I didn’t injure myself at all.”

Musichetta laughed and pushed Bossuet in the direction of the couch. “Yes, well, let’s not jinx it now, shall we?” In an undertone to Joly, she said, “Well, he didn’t injure himself much, and all he had to do was touch the Christmas lights for an entire strand to burn out, but all in all, pretty successful.”

Joly allowed Musichetta to pull him to the couch, settling down in between her and Bossuet. “So you guys sent me on ridiculous errands all day so that you could do this? I don’t know whether to be flattered or what.”

Kissing Joly’s temple, Bossuet told him cheerfully, “I’d go with flattered. It’s not every day we get to send you on a wild goose chase, trying to figure out where we could send you so that you’d be gone long enough for us to finish. Barring, of course, any catastrophes, which luckily--”

Musichetta leaned across Joly to cover Bossuet’s mouth with her hand. “Again, let’s not press our luck, love.” Joly laughed and Bossuet pouted, licking Musichetta’s hand until she removed it, giggling, “Gross, stop!”

As she wiped her hand on Joly’s shirt, Bossuet grabbed the remote and turned on the TV. “Whatever. Stop talking so that we can watch It’s A Wonderful Life.”

He turned the film on and cuddled against Joly’s side, while Musichetta leaned against his other side. Joly could barely believe his luck, cuddled on the couch with his two absolutely favorite people in the whole world, watching one of his favorite films, surrounded by Christmas decorations, and completed surrounded and filled with love.


End file.
